The voelva's stream

Vigga the Voelva was wired
seldom she had walked weirdly
as she did today - down
near the bustling brook
introspectively immersed
in her own ideas of womanhood.
Why was life so eerily eccentric
and not plain straight forward?
Why must everything be
fought firebrandedly for?
The voelva just stared straight
at the waters wondrously streaming
stoically  and forever finding
new puzzles and pounding drops
driven by nature's notes of perfection
yes it was spring and she needed
to stop her blues' brooding.
If this year was going to be her last
then she would applaud the amazing
mother lode of  all mortals.
Her steps stopped their warily walk
as she lifted her head high
Vigga the Voelva was willing
to face her final fate afresh.